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20 Pissing in the Stream of Consciousness

from Product by Randall Stephens

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  • My first printed book of poetry "One For The Road" is all about travel and journey, a collection representing work written over a 6 year period.

    Featuring Hopeless crushes in strange places, communications breakdowns, heartbreak, isolation, floods in Thailand, scams in Malaysia, wankers in Auckland, disillusionment in India, freaking out in the Sahara, and a stolen pith helmet in Nepal. We go from exotic adventure to facing up the economic disparities in the world.

    It's 22 individual stories on 60 pages, staple stitched with illustrations, all created and composed by the author.

    Also there's elephants in it. It's pretty good.

    Includes unlimited streaming of 06 Don't Ask Why via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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about

Vocals recorded live at 'Word is Born, Horse Bazaar, Melbourne. May 2011. Music by Kim Lajoie.

lyrics

PISSING IN A STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS


George Lucas tried to fight the Vietnam War with Ewoks
university students used sayings and slogans
figured they could fight a war
against the war if they wore badges
placards with platitudes like
no blood for oil, only bush I trust
only I don't know what that's supposed to mean
because I sure-as-fuck
don’t trust the other type of Bush much either

don’t get me wrong I'm on your side in the sidelines
it's just that I like to play hard to get with my allegiances
yet am real slutty and sleep around with my cynicisms
I’m an equal opportunist

because if justice is blind
then injustice is looking right at you
and down your open collar
leering at the goods in jovial jocular vernacular

I’ll redistribute the world's mirth
while westerners' waistlines increase in girth
all that waist and the belt buckle breaks
and I could use a break in the chains of poverty
turn them into fashion accessories
goes well with your hir shirt
break the cycle of carrying your crosses
and getting cross with your parents

these are
issues of impoverished metaphors that I over-produce
flooding world markets with over-priced unnecessary poetry and verse
that I never make enough time to (uh what was it)… rehearse
inbuilt redundancy that I've built into this redundant sentence
slavishly labouring away below the propriety line
third world, third class, third bass
fourth time lucky

advertisers
Got me fooled into thinking
thinking they're hip and that I can be
but my black jeans aren't tight enough
wait a minute I haven't got any, patience
is a virtue like other virtues I can't remember
remember there were about seven of them though
kinda like the deadly sins
I got a handle on the deadly sins
and is it just a coincidence that there are 7 of each?
maybe they should get together and duke it out
the winner takes all and you can take it from me

battle of the sins and virtues, that’s a true spectator sport
and you can leave us out of it
they could have a showdown down at the battleground
like at the end of that movie the wanderers only less…
only less,
less like it's a relatively obscure early 80s cult film classic
directed Phil Kaufman


but I don’t got time to explain about that now
we’re out of its stock
and I’m on the clock
on the dial, on the edge
on the phone, on the mend
on a bender, on a quest
on a soap box
on a roll
on facebook under a fake name
underneath the radar and beneath your contempt
beneath my dignity?
now that's getting pretty fuckin' low
especially by today’s standards

because these days
kids can even get bullied over the internet
threatening emails and cyber space
so it all starts to seem as appealing as Siberia
like there ain't nothing’ out there but a vast electronic wasteland
fields of frozen forest
frost bitten bitches bitchin' about emo
emo ain’t your thing bro?

well to tell you the truth
I think you’re just mad about your lost youth
you criticise the kids now as if you were never young
determined to prove you too were different
no? Like you never wore strange clothes
or felt like dying, maybe I'm lying
or assuming too much
I'm not, after all, basing this on any evidence
only this feeling in the air…
or maybe it’s a smell…
smells like teens drinking spirits

maybe that's just me and my liquid breakfast
90 proof and I got nothing to prove
except that I can get drunk
drunker than you, much drunker that you!
so I can start yelling a Marlowe line or two at you
at midnight mid city before doing a round of one-arm push ups
I’m pushing 30
better grow up sober up?

shut the fuck up!

sobriety is a fine thing in moderation
but overrated and its effects wear off quickly
I’m a godamn poet don’tchya know it
and I'm fielding questions like
"haven't you got anything better to do?"

I scratch my head for scratching my balls
and turn back to the computer screen
looking for the answers to come careening out of a keyboard
with the clocks pendulum
threatening to dismember me at every stroke

death wears a smile
time wears down my defences
and my jokes wear themselves thin
I might be becoming unbearable
but I’m still smarter than your average bear
if only just barely

stayed back late at work and mucked around
photocopying my soul
got caught by the cleaners who took me to the cleaners
to keep my dirty little secret
although I secretly desire to tell everyone my dirty little secrets
which I guess is why I write and perform this stuff

I want to find catharsis
meaning, pathos, mojo
new depths of self expression and poignancy
I really want to get laid
but this payoff has been much delayed.

ain’t kidding
ain’t funny
you think I’m in this for the money
or the fame
well think again stranger
it’s all just a set of stages
and I’m gonna take ‘em one at a time

I'm so afraid of what's next
afraid of what I might say
and what's left unsaid
where the devil fears to tread
angels on my shoulder whisper dirty limericks
that I don't have the balls to recite here.
the balls in your court
I am shit at sport
far too short, besides
that's the best excuse I'm gonna give you
for making excuses

so if you’ll excuse me
I’m off to get my rocks off

I'm late,
and I'm not even dressed the part
all I got is what I'm wearing
I've traded my dignity with the emperor
for some new clothes

and I don’t know much about fashion
so please,
can you take a look and tell me…


what do you think?

credits

from Product, released September 1, 2013
Vocals recorded live at 'Word is Born, Horse Bazaar, Melbourne. May 2011. Music by Kim Lajoie.

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about

Randall Stephens Melbourne, Australia

Randall Stephens writes poetry about other poetry, cycling, sexuality, masculinity, dinosaurs and your boyfriend. People have called Randall controversial. Randall has called people losers.

Randall has toured extensively in Australia, as well as in New Zealand, Singapore, Malaysia and Borneo.

Also competed in London and New York, but didn’t do very well so don’t tell him I mentioned that.
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